


In Our Strength We Can Rely

by Emaleya



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Feelings, Nothing explicit, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emaleya/pseuds/Emaleya
Summary: Short, everyday moments and thoughts of Inquisitor Miriam Adaar.





	1. Self Care

Miriam was tired and sore and if she tried to look at another report the odds were good that she'd end up crying.

The reports weren't even sad.

Not these ones, after Haven they were sad.

These were just the regular kind, supplies and troop movements and what was basically gossip about nobles that didn't count as just gossip because this was actually the useful information.

She felt drawn thin and stretched out and tense as a harp string.

And there was always so much to do.

It would still be there the next day.

She needed to stop.

She buckled her vest and pulled on her softest scarf. It was made from rabbit wool, and was a gift, and she'd been assured that the rabbits were pampered. She'd passed the gloves on to Cole, because they were meant for smaller hands than hers.

She walked down the stairs and through the hall, briskly, purposefully or she'd never get anywhere.

First stop was in the undercroft, Dagna greeted her cheerfully, Adaar waved, and was ready to give her any update she'd like to hear, even though she'd written them out for Adaar to read. But Miriam just shook her head and smiled and continued past her to potion's lab, and requisition table.

Two hours were spent mashing and cutting and boiling and brewing, listening to the sound of the waterfall and feeling the buzz of enchantments.

She had three fresh colours for her vitaar and two jars of horn balm when she finished, then she wiped everything off and put them in her bag.

Her thoughts were slower, smoother.

Varric was entertaining when she passed him in the main hall and she smiled and waved but continued on into the rotunda.

Solas was working on his mural. She didn't know much about it but she new that once the colours had been mixed and the application started it had to be finished or it wouldn't set correctly.

He knew she wouldn't interrupt him. It was fascinating to watch though.

So she did.

She'd asked once if he minded. He hadn't as long as she didn't disturb him.

So she sat on the floor, legs crossed and holding her ankles and watched.

And breathed.

But the subjects of the mural kept stopping her thoughts from letting go.

So she got up and headed up the stairs to Dorian's nook.

He was nose deep in a book and waved her off and told her he was too busy doing her research for her to chat.

That was fine.

She patted his shoulder and picked out a book that held no real strategic value but still looked interesting.

It was a fictional account of a historical figure akin to Varric's work in honesty and historical value.

She sat by Dorian and read trash until she could stop thinking about the inquisition for more than five minutes at a time.

She went to the stables and gave Ser Nibbles, her battle-nug, some treats that they both agreed were making him fat but that he loved.

She made him promise to run a little faster next time. He made a mess of her hair.

Blackwall laughed at the mess she was in and gave her a cloth to wipe with.

They went to the Herald's rest and found a table, well she walked in and someone gave up their table and wouldn't let her refuse, and they ordered meat stew and ale and she listened to his stories about being in the army.

Sera came down and sat beside her and leaned against her and made inappropriate comments.

The Iron Bull joined them and he had more stories.

Miriam slid a jar of horn balm across the table for him.

They didn't mind that she didn't speak.

If she spoke she'd have to speak as The Inquisitor.

Sera was warm against her side.

And her companions were loud and friendly.

When it was late Sera pulled her upstairs to her nook and pushed her down on her pillows and demanded her jar of horn balm and took care of her.

She sat in her lap and pressed their foreheads together and stared into her eyes.

When Miriam's horn roots were done and the jar set aside, Sera kissed her.

And again.

And again.

And then she took care of her in a different way.

They fell asleep curled together under silks and things with pleasant textures.


	2. Love and Sleep

Some of Miriam's favourite moments are when she and Sera get the chance to sleep together.

Not sex, though that's always fun and creative and exciting and sometimes baffling, but actual sleep.

Just getting to settle down on the same soft bed and relax completely beside someone so vivid and full of life and knowing she'll be there when Miriam wakes up.

Or if she's not there will be a note or a token left in her place. Once she'd left a honeycomb that had gotten the pillow all sticky and Miriam had felt bad for making the servants clean it out.

This was new.

Sleeping together with someone wasn't new.

She was a twin, she'd most certainly shared her bed with Mara for the first couple years of her life anyway and she remembered choosing to share with her later on.

She was a mercenary with the Valo Kas and you could only take what you could carry and tents were heavy so everyone shared, until the last year when she'd been promoted, officer had its perks, well, she'd needed the second half of the tent for the paperwork.

So, really...

Sleeping next to someone, holding them, because she was a clingy sleeper and she did warn her bed-mates, was not new.

The feeling was.

The contentment.

It was like that moment in the morning when you wake up just a little before you need to get up and everything is soft and comfortable and warm and nothing hurts and it's like that but inside her heart and her head and she's not asleep yet.

And waking up with her is like getting a surprise gift and she is delighted.

This was probably what they meant by love.

Romantic love.

She knew love.

She loved her family and her mentor. She loved her friends.

And she felt that for Sera, that drive to protect her and make her happy and to not disappoint her.

The closeness and trust.

But there was also this.

Like a different flavour.

This felt like those, like family love and love of friends but also a partnership.

She was young, so while she'd never been shy she hadn't known that many people.

People near her age, well enough to get close to.

Sex was one thing.

For sex she just had to be attracted, interested and trust them enough not to cause her harm.

Love, or even just intense like, the precursor of love, was different.


	3. It's Important to Maintain Your Appearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you run out of supplies while traveling it is useful to be able to make it yourself.

The jar was empty and she tsked to herself before hauling herself up and out of the tent, bare-faced and a little hungry.

But there was some things she needed to do. She'd thought that Vitaar would last longer, but the texture had been off and more had needed to be applied to get the right colour and coverage.

She asked her soldiers, around the camp, to bring her a few of the necessary ingredients and she got to grinding and mixing and brewing. Bare handed even though they had used gloves for some of the plants.

Her people were better about poisons than everyone else.

She always tried to keep a few things with her in case this happened, small jars of colour because sometimes she hated the colours the vitaar went naturally.

It wasn't until after Haven had been destroyed and Skyhold established that she'd been able to do so again, but it was good.

She could return to her teals and purples and golds and blacks.

Traditional Qunari Vitaar had meanings for colour and pattern , but she was Vashoth and while she knew some of the Qunari meanings, it was just enough to not accidentally say the wrong thing. Lately her patterns had been mimicking dragons more and more closely.

Though no one had commented on it yet.

Her companions woke and made their ways out of their tents and went about eating their breakfasts, and the smell made her stomach rumble, but this was first.

She'd get these made, and eat while they set and cooled and then put them on before they left camp.

They'd be later than usual but no one had a helmet that would fit over her horns so that was their fault, really.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra then pointed out that they had several things they needed to look into and fix and people to kill.

"I ran out of Vitaar, this won't take too long. If anyone wants to go sleep for another forty minutes they can."

"Vitaar? That's what you call that face paint you wear?"

"Yep, that stuff."

"Well, surely you can go without for today?"

She gave her a look askance, "why don't you go without your breastplate for today Seeker Cassandra?"

"It's just makeup"

Dorian laughed, "It's never just makeup, you shouldn't get in the way of someone trying to put their face on. But If I'm not mistaken, Vitaar is something a bit more than that."

"Yep," she confirmed, " Makes me more resistant to injury and poisoning and illness. I'm already wearing makeup, you might have noticed."

"So this is completely functional?" Cassandra asked as she put a little powdered dye into one of the mixes.

She shrugged, "Mostly, you never use just one colour. Intricate patterns indicate fine-motor skills, attention to detail and accuracy. Also memory. Qunari give the colours meaning, but I just like the way these look on my skin. Someone who follows the Qunari patterns too closely is seen as not adjusting to being outside the qun very well. Or they're seen as badly hidden spies that make all of their companions suspect."

"Bull never mentioned this," Dorian commented.

"The Iron Bull has been Qunari his entire life, he wouldn't have the context if he does have the information."

"Usually he's the one say that if you're not Qunari you can't understand Qunari customs."

"He's a tit sometimes. I mean, it's true, I could never understand the Qun the way someone raised in it would, but that's not unique. I also can't understand Orlais or the Nobility, or the Avvar the way someone who grew up in the situations would. That's just life, right? not some indication of superiority or mystery or whatever." She let them set in their little glass jars and she ate, and tidied her hair and pulled out her brush and mirror when she was ready. "Almost done, someone wake Dorian back up, please?"

"If it's just for your protection then why the mirror?"

"Because I'm not a savage. I'm a beautiful young woman who likes to paint scales on her face."

"Scales?"

"Like a dragon, if I do them like this the gold shimmers on my cheekbones and the purple brings out my bone structure."

"So it is vanity." She shrugged, "beauty in function, has value." She finished up and checked that everything was symmetrical.

She fingered at her horn bases. "I'm going to need to balm these before they get flaky. That's vanity and comfort, in case you're keeping track."


	4. Education is Important

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had a life before the Inquisition and she has skills other than combat.

"You speak very well," Josephine, the Antivan ambassador for the newly announced Inquisition commented one day as she was going over the nobles to be visiting with Miriam.

"For an Oxman?" Miriam asked tiredly, sitting back and waiting.

"Oh!" Josephine exclaimed, apparently embarrassed, "I didn't mean it like that. No, no most mercenaries and well, you couldn't have had a formal education but you have a very large vocabulary, I wasn't expecting that."

Miriam shrugged, still aloof, "I'm not sure what you mean by formal, but I did have an education."

"Really?" She asked, "where did you study?"

"The adults in the village I grew up in set up a schooling system for all of the children so we'd all know how to read and write in the common language, as well as our numbers and basic sciences, and life skills. Then when we were a little older we'd have classes and apprenticeships for whatever skills were needed to keep the village running."

"Really? I've never heard of anything like that? Was it organized by the village Chantry?"

She shook her head, "We were too small to have a Chantry when my parents arrived, and though we're larger now we have too many people who've been directly harmed by the Chantry for it to be welcome. We do have informal services for the Andrastrians who believed in the Chant. I liked to attend those when I was home."

"So you are Andrastrian, we had wondered."

"Oh, yes. You can't imagine my disappointment when the Valo-Kas had a few days off by a city that actually let us through the gates and I tried to visit the Chantry only to be escorted out by the attending Templars." She made walking gestures with her fingers as she spoke, "Being a mage I wasn't going to argue, but I'd just wanted to look and to pray in an official place of worship."

"That must have been very disappointing," their ambassador responded. It was nice being validated. Miriam felt a little bad for jumping to the worst conclusion about what she said. A little. Maybe she'd make her some nice smelling skin cream.

She shrugged, "so no, the Chantry had no involvement in my education. When I'm home I help teach the younger children and work with the new mages."

"Not many villages have people with enough knowledge to teach."

"Well, the Qun places a very high value on knowledge, so my parents were very well educated, and they were careful to develop their language skills when they escaped. The Circles also give their mages a decent education, even if the sciences here are so very flawed. My apprenticeship is with a woman who learned her skills before she escaped slavery in Tevinter. We have many resources of knowledge and Mama is good at organizing, Tama-Papa is good with children, he would have been a Tamassran under the Qun if he hadn't manifested magic."

"I thought Tamassrans were women?"

"Yes, they are."

"But you said your father would have been one?"

"The role defines the gender, not the body."

"That sounds very confusing."

"Bodies are weird and varied and often hidden, Ambassador. Many Tal Vashoth have difficulties with the ways genders are defined here."

"You said you were an apprentice? To a mage, then?"

"No?" Miriam tilted her head and the fine chains clinked against her horns, "magic lessons are different? Though she is helping me figure out how to use magic to improve results."

"So what are you apprenticing in? I'm sorry but I thought your skills were in battle as a mercenary? Is it herbalism?"

"No, I only know the recipes I need so I don't have to rely on carrying a large enough supply of the basics and creature comforts," she shook her head, "I'm an apprentice Midwife, though the village is small enough that we also work with animals. By we, I mean me, now. She prefers not to if I'm around, she learned on people, to help women survive births in the slave barracks. Then she just figured out what applied more broadly with the help of experienced farmers."

"A midwife? Truly?" She seemed surprised, "I would not have guessed."

"Just an apprentice, I've only helped keep things clean with women. And with the animals we don't do much unless the mother is having difficulties."

"But it seems so..." Josephine seemed lost for words.

"Pastoral? nurturing?"

"I suppose."

"I'm a farm girl, Lady Josephine."

"You don't speak like one."

"Do I need to? I'm not sure I know what a farm girl is supposed to sound like if it isn't me, I grew up in a farming village and when I'm home I do the farm chores before helping with lessons and going to my apprenticeship. That's more or less what everyone does depending on their job. Perhaps your knowledge of what farm girls and peasants sound like is influenced by your own upbringing? I've seen some of the comedy plays, we've met players on the road who entertained us for protection while we traveled together, I'm pretty certain that those accents were parodies."

"You've given me a lot to think about."

"It's good to question assumptions. But, back to gossip, then?"

"This isn't gossip, this will help you."


	5. Long jokes just tend to drag on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughter is important

Sera liked her Buckles' sense of humour and she told her that loudly and often.

That she even had a sense of humour was important.

Made her seem more like a person and not just The High and Mighty Inquisitor.

Sera also like Miriam's sense of humour because it meant that she could hear her laugh often.

She told Miriam that she liked her laugh.

Miriam liked Sera's giggles and her chortles and her cackles.

She delighted in them and found them incredibly contagious.

There has been more than one instance where Sera's laughter had made her laugh without knowing what they were laughing about.

And then Sera laughed at her for not laughing about anything.

And her face hurt and her lungs hurt and whenever someone tried to ask them why they were laughing they'd start all over and be completely useless.

She didn't get to do that often in Skyhold.

Like Sera said, she had to be the High and Mighty Inquisitor and be respectable and not a silly giggling girl.

At least often enough to be respected, because like Sera said it was also important for her to be approachable and relatable.

But when they were on the road? She liked traveling with The Iron Bull, Sera and Blackwall because they made the best jokes.

The Iron Bull was constantly making puns, which was wonderful, and there had been a couple instances where they'd caught her completely by surprise.

Sera always had a large supply of silly jokes and comments and noises.

Blackwall's humour was hilariously filthy.


	6. These are a few of my favourite things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's most important.  
> After Trespasser

Miriam's new arm is probably her second most favourite thing in the world.

It is beautiful and balanced and it hums with the enchantments powering it.

It lets her hold her wife. It lets her wear her wedding ring. Spin a staff, get dressed on her own.

It's a part of her, and it was designed and made by close friends and it is wonderful.

But her favourite item is her sending crystal. Because it allows her to speak to a friend who is far away.

Without it she'd might never have heard his voice again and listening to hims speak is much different to reading letters.

For one thing she can catch him out on his lying and get him to tell her if he needs some sort of help. For another thing, if he falls into trouble he can tell her immediately and she can get everything in order for a speedy rescue.

She has friends with ravens, which, not as fast as sending crystals are still very fast. Fast enough to save a life.

If she could only have the one she'd have the crystal.

An arm is damn useful, but a friend is more important.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything it is time to send time with friends and family

It's after the winter palace and the failed Qunari invasion and the loss of the her hand and part of her arm and the mark with it.

Dagna has measured her arms and her hand and made tracings and molds and she's promised to have the first prototype ready within a week.

Miriam is fine with that. She's not going anywhere. She's retired, anyway.

She's also got a couple reports to read from Leliana's spies.

But she's _retired_.

She's so retired that she's just relaxing in a house in Kirkwall's Hightown. It has a convenient basement staircase to the sewers.

Her friends seem to have made sure she's never actually alone. They might think they're being subtle but they're not.

Thom traveled with them to Kirkwall, but then he parted to continue his personal quest of repentance.

He sent letters. They were pretty short and sparse but it was good to see evidence of his continued survival.

Besides the coded reports.

Vivienne kept in touch as well, through letters written on only the best papers with the best inks, likely taken by a scribe. She asked after her well-being and recovery and she wrote her back personally in her own rougher hand while using the same refined words that Josephine had helped her practice. Friendly but meaningless exchanges.

Sera is around, naturally, but she's working with her Red Jenny contacts on their problem.

Miriam dreams of Cole frequently, so he's around, in a way, in the Fade.

Varric is busy until evening being the Viscount, and she has had enough of leadership that after the formalities were through she avoided going to see him at work.

Dorian had to return to Tevinter and take up his shiny new title of Magister.

They speak almost daily, sometimes for hours. Usually about nothing actually important because they both need to stop thinking about the big things for a little while. Naturally some of their Not Important talks are about magical theory, politics, history, ethics and the combination of two or more of any of those things.

(They get pretty heated sometimes.)

Sera has distracted her from them on occasion because she decided they were getting too excited about weird things.

The Iron Bull would help her interrupt and sometimes even co-opt the sending crystal to have his own more private conversation with Dorian.

Bull was staying with them. He'd traveled to Kirkwall with them and then simply hadn't left.

The house had enough rooms it made no difference.

But he wasn't the Viscount of Kirkwall and he didn't have Red Jenny contacts, so he was around the entire day most days.

They spent a lot of time together.

He didn't make an issue of her missing arm. He asked if she seemed to be struggling and laughed when she made jokes about it.

(Sometimes the others would get these looks in their eyes that were too close to pity when she was just trying to make light and have fun with the situation.)

They spoke more.

While she was Inquisitor and he was Ben Hassrath she didn't tell him much because he was a spy for a hostile force. He talked a lot but not about the important things, because he was a spy.

When he wasn't Ben Hassrath anymore she still couldn't speak and he still kept things close to his chest because there were other spies.

 

Now, with a cleaning service hired to come twice a week and them cooking their own meals, there weren't any spies to hear them. Now he could tell her the things he'd noticed about her, with only the five of them there to listen.

Well Dorian wasn't there, but he crystal was active, so he was listening.

"Yeah Boss, ever since the beginning you and Sera have fought really well together. And she's got a certain type of style, not everyone can do that. Was one of your kith an archer like her?"

"Kin, actually, not kith. My older brother fights like her. Does flips and everything. He's pretty big but he just flies like it's nothing." She and Sera we cuddled together on the couch, her shortened arm over Sera's shoulders.

"You have a brother? You never mentioned that."

"Yep, I've got a twin sister too."

"Twins, huh?"

Sera knew this already, and she was looking smug and she teased them for not knowing.

"Well why didn't you ever tell us about them?"

"To keep them safe. I was in the center of a massive military cult. In comparison they're soft targets, and people could use them against me. I didn't even want anyone looking. Couldn't hide that I had parents, but my parents don't travel much. Mara and Meraad were also Valo Kas, so..." she shrugged.

"Yeah, I'd been wondering about that," and Bull mentions that there had been a lot of conflicting Ben Hassrath reports about the Adaar from the Valo Kas, from her being a Sarebaas to her using knives or being a man with a bow.

"Yeah, we swapped out. Two of us stayed home and worked in the village and one out and earning money. Mama also preferred not to have all of her children risking their lives."

"So this twin, she look like you?"

She snorted, "We're the same height, but otherwise no. Her horns go back in a coil, her skin is lighter, like Mama's, and she's got Tama-Papa's white hair. Her eyes are darker, more brown than purple. Meraad's also lighter, but I'm dark like Tama-Papa and he had a different-" she gestured vaguely, "sire? He was from the breeding program, Mama left the Qun pregnant."

Dorian would deny whining, "I still can't believe you never told me."

"If stuff went bad with your father I would've told you. We'd adopt you or something."

"She told me."

"Well, yeah," she ruffled Sera's hair, "I've being trying to get you to marry me for years, so I had to warn you about the in-laws."


	8. Homeward Bound

With a new arm and plans set in motion and letters written Miriam decided that it was time to go home.

Her real home.

Sera needed to meet her new family for one thing and she missed them terribly for another. And at that moment several of her friends were actually present for her to invite home with her.

They'd never be able to reach her village on their own, not the way it was warded.

Cassandra was surprised and touched to be invited, and also reluctant. Though she finally agreed.

Varric seemed eager enough to have an excuse to leave his city for a short time. Meeting the family of a dear and famous friend seemed a good excuse.

Josephine seemed flattered, and curious to meet the people while worried about the quality of their lodgings. Miriam reassured her that it was summer so everything would be perfectly comfortable whether they were set up in a house or a tent. That they used hot water for bathing and they had ponds to sleep in and they'd be reaching there just before a festival. And of course Josephine was already familiar with some of the foods, she wouldn't need to bring out her spices.

Leliana, the Divine Victoria, could not come, which was a small but expected disappointment. But she did have Her Warden with her so Miriam was reassured she wouldn't feel too left out.

Dorian would not be able to make the trip but he insisted that he would love to be a part of some of the conversations anyway.

The Iron Bull had been invited as well, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the prospect of being surrounded by so many Tal Vashoth. Miriam thought it would do him some good to meet some who weren't actively trying to kill him. Some who were kind and polite and civilized and who could bring order out of chaos while still allowing freedom of choice.

Vivienne was not invited because Miriam wasn't of any use to her any more. Not of any use that Miriam wanted to be, anyway.

It took her some time to decide to invite Cullen, and his Mabari, he had been a Templar and he had problems with mages and her village was full of mages many of whom had problems with Templars.

Together they travelled with the closest of Bull's Chargers, Krem, Stitches, Rocky, Skinner, Grim, and Dalish. They were there for added security of both the literal and the emotional kind for the Iron Bull.

Josephine was constantly surprised by how long they were traveling, each time they sighted a town she'd wonder if that was where Miriam had grown up. Miriam would smile and tell her no, her village was not on such an obvious roadway.

Eventually her answers were more along the lines of "I'd visit sometimes, to help at market," than "No, I've only ever passed through."

Finally they reached Snarling, the village closest to her own.

"We'll stay the night at the tavern here, though we might need to bunk together. I'll let you sort that out between you once we know how many rooms are available."

The innkeeper was pleased to see her and called her Little Adaar to her companions' amusement, they mentioned that there had been all sorts of strange rumours going around about her and looking at who she was traveling with some of them might actually be true.

She agreed that some of them were, and that some of them were not but she refused to say which because it would ruin everyone's fun.

(She did introduce Sera, though. Because Sera loved it when she announced her unavailability.)

"If there were rumours about my marriage, those I can confirm, I'd like you to meet my wife, Sera"

"It is a pleasure! I can't believe that you were the first one to get married! We all thought that it would be your sister first!"

"We thought that too!" then, to Sera, "Mara's a romantic. It's terrible."

* * *

 

 

There's some confused protesting when Miriam dismounts and leaves the road for a livestock path, gesturing for them to follow. Sera who had been riding pillion behind Miriam just shuffled forward on Ser Snufflesnout's back to take her place.

"Is this really the time for detours?" Asked Josephine, sounding tired and sore.

They had been riding for a couple weeks by this point, Josephine, while a skilled horsewoman was used to traveling in carriages.

"Not a detour," Miriam reassured her, "but are you in a hurry?"

"No, I mean, won't it be getting dark soon?"

She agreed, "We'll be getting there an hour or so after sunset. I know the way though, I could get us there in pitch dark," she grinned, "Just don't get separated."

"What happens I someone gets separated?" Cullen asked.

She turned to give a serious look, "Then... I guess I'll have to go find you. Or someone else will. Whichever," she shrugged. The fact that these incredible, historic, heroic warriors looked unsettled by this was hilarious to her.

She continued leading them. The sky continued to darken.

"There's some sort of magic, we're still looking into it as well as we can with limited resources, that prevents people who mean us harm from entering the village. It also prevents strangers from accidentally finding the village. I grew up here so I can find my way without any difficulty, but people who move here need to be escorted for the first few years until they're recognized or accepted by the magic. If you get lost you will not get lucky and find your way to us, but we do have rangers out every day and night looking for people who got lost.

They paused to rest and drink and admire the setting sun.

The path had changed from a livestock trail through short grass into a dirt roadway bordered by brush and trees.

And it was dark.

She and Dalish set some mage lights glowing ahead of them.

The Iron Bull had dismounted and was leading his dracolisk after one of his horns had hit a low hanging branch.

They were at the bottom of a small hill, there seemed to be light on the other side.

Right on time she heard a couple familiar bird calls cry out, just slightly out of sync with the rest and she grinned and held up a hand for her companions to stop.

A tall figure stepped onto the road at the top of the hill, backlit by firelight.

She raced up the hill, ignoring the couple of hands that reached out to stop her, and leapt into his arms.

She clung to his shoulders and he held her waist and he swung her around to absorb her momentum so they wouldn't fall.

Setting her down he pressed his forehead to hers.

"You're a bit late."

She was smiling so widely her face hurt, "took the long route."

 

 


End file.
